Intertwined
by Moonchild DJ
Summary: Sam and Dean are brothers, but Castiel knows they're so much more. Destiny is intertwined between them, and not even angels could break apart their bond. Will it be enough, though, to break the twisted fate the end of the world has for them? WINCEST


Intertwined

By Moonchild DJ

Chapter 1/?

Rating: T/light M, mostly for Dean's mouth

Spoilers: Yes, for those that haven't watched Season 5 to current episodes

Beta'ed by: Li Mulan(Thank you, sweetie!)

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Author's Notes--

Wow, it has been forever and a day since I've written something serious. I've only had a four-chapter story for YGO, in the Yahoo group, The Dragon's Lair, and a one-shot for Fullmetal Alchemist a few years back. My writing well has been dry a few years, thanks to real life. XD This is my first Supernatural fan fiction, and I suppose I was inspired! I have a few more ideas in store, so I hope I can make it a good long fic, I haven't done one for a very long time. I hope you all like it, and I give you this fair warning--

HERE THERE BE WINCEST AND ONE-SIDED CASTIEL/DEAN. IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T READ.

That said, please let me know if you like it! Review is yours and the writer's best friend!

Enjoy!

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"Dean. We can't."

"Why? I mean…c'mon, man, I see how you are. I'm not blind. My normal outlet may be those with soft curves and pink lips and perfume, but there's been a few times…I've seen the way you look at me."

He shouldn't look at him the way he does. But he knows what the other man is talking about. He's certainly not blind to the simple ways of human desire, even if he is an angel.

Blue eyes turned to him, studying the frowning, pretty boy face before him, and Castiel sighed, shaking his head.

"It does not matter in what way I look at you. We can't."

Dean Winchester had known many things in his life. He could never be considered what one would call "normal", even if he attempted to be so every day. When one is made a hunter before they can even drive a car, normal doesn't fall into the category. Normal isn't seeing your mother burning, pinned to the ceiling. Normal isn't saving your little brother from various things that go bump in the night. Normal isn't learning how to hold--and shoot--a gun before he is seven years old. Normal isn't chasing down said things that go bump in the night and knowing that the human race isn't as safe from legends as they thought.

He strove for normal, surely. Listening to rock bands, cruising for chicks, wearing leather and being tough. But when one's been to Hell and back--literally--and has been saved by their own personal angel, when one knows that they are to be the vessel for the freakin' angel Michael in the Apocalypse…normal ain't for him.

Which was why he couldn't understand why the angel named Castiel, the one that had pulled his ass out of the fire time and again, and been there when no one else had…the one that looked at him with piercing, fierce, longing blue eyes, wouldn't let him touch him. He wasn't a stranger to being desired.

"It's not the whole angel deal, is it? I mean…you won't Fall or something…right?" he replied, squinting at Castiel as the trench coat-clad angel sighed again. "Or is it Jimmy?"

"My vessel has nothing to do with this." Castiel shook his head. "Even he understands simple human…instincts."

"Then what? C'mon, Cas, throw me a line here! I can't interpret you as well as you can me!" Dean replied, throwing out his arms in exasperation. "All I know is that ever since you pulled me outta Hell, there's been something, and you won't act on it. It's just lingering there! You freaked out with a chick, total deer-in-the-headlights, and if it's not you bein' straight, and if you're willin', then why aren't you doin' something about it? If I have to turn my head one more time and see you looking at me like that…"

"My apologies." Castiel dipped his head, dark bangs falling over his eyes in a fashion that softened Dean's exasperation and damn it, made him want to hug the angel. "It was not my intention to…lead you on. Yes, there is…something. But I am not allowed to act upon it."

"Cas…!"

The angel held up his hand. "I'm not allowed to act upon it, because you are meant for someone else. It is not my place to take something that doesn't belong to me."

Dean blinked in surprise. Well, that came out of left field… "Meant for someone? Who?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

Green eyes glared at him, and the angel was struck speechless for a moment, the way the light slid through the windows, slanting across those beautiful eyes and full mouth. He was truly a beautiful man, and if only…

"If you're not at liberty to say, then how am I gonna know who the hell this person is?" Dean growled, hands on his hips. "That's like a freakin' needle in a haystack! If they're so damned important, then why don't I know? Why can't you just tell me?"

"I cannot. If I tell you in advance, then something could happen, throw it out of proportion. I cannot risk it failing. If it is to happen, it is to be without your knowing."

"Alright, Obi-Wan, and I suppose the Force is telling you this, huh?" Dean drawled, then rolled his eyes when he received a blank expression. "Dude, you angels need a sense of humor…so you're saying I'm meant for this big important person and, that's during the whole world falling apart, mind you…and I'm not allowed to know this big secret, and 'cause of it, you won't act on…this? Do I got it all?"

"Basically, yes." Castiel nodded, frowning when Dean scowled. "I am sorry. If it wasn't for these events, which must happen…then…I would be happy to consummate in conclusion with you."

Dean found himself laughing, even if the whole thing was crazy. He was in…lust or something with an angel, and he couldn't even act upon it because of some destiny to be with someone else. "Only you could make it sound so noble, Cas." he snickered as Castiel simply arched a brow at him. "I mean…c'mon, you know, and I know that there's something between us, I've seen you looking at me as if I was running around naked, or you wished I was." He felt mildly gleeful when that caused a faint blush on the scruffy cheeks. "Dude, you're talking to someone who knows what desire looks like. You've put yourself out to protect me, and yeah, I'm the vessel for Michael, big whoop. You've done everything in your power to protect me, and trust me, just being an angel condom don't account for that. You have feelings, and I bet that just puts your wings in a twist."

Castiel frowned. "I…admit, I was not expecting to be so drawn to you, Dean. As you can imagine, I have been too busy with other things to think about human needs. To be so…attracted has been off-putting, yes, but it does not change the fact--"

"That I'm bound and determined for someone else, yeah, yeah."

Castiel couldn't help the small gasp when he found himself pinned up against the wall of the little hotel that Dean was holing up in, surrounded by the scent and feeling of the human in his care. His eyes widened, bright blue gems darkening at the corners with a small, forbidden shiver of pleasure when a calloused thumb grazed along his jaw line. The digit was rough against his skin, inhumanly soft as his lashes fluttered.

"Doesn't mean that you can't let me touch you…just once, Cas." Dean whispered as he gazed at him, leaning, for once, into the angel's personal space, chest brushing against chest. "C'mon…what can one little kiss hurt, right?"

"You…would tempt a saint, Dean Winchester." Castiel breathed, swallowing hard when the thumb brushed over his bottom lip. He was taken with the urge to open his mouth, stroke his tongue over the thumb, and he wasn't sure if that was his own desire, or his vessel's. Both were humming in an overwhelming fashion as he gazed into those hooded green eyes.

"Good, that means it's working." Dean grinned, a cocky expression that was both endearing and annoying at the same time as the angel snorted softly. "C'mon, Cas…just…"

Dean's cellphone rang, blaring out a track from AC/DC, and the hunter cursed softly under his breath, pulling away as Castiel struggled to remember how to lock his knees and hold his weight.

"Probably Bobby." the other muttered as he grabbed his phone and held it up to his ear after jabbing the talk button. "Yeah, Bobby. What's up?"

There was a long space of silence, and Dean frowned.

"Bobby? You okay?"

"…It's not Bobby." a voice replied softly, low and masculine and quietly sad. Dean felt his breath suck up from somewhere past his chest as he stiffened.

"Sam…" he breathed. "Sonuva…are you all right, man?"

"Not…really." Sam replied quietly, his voice catching in a manner that made all of Dean's protective instincts rise up at once.

"Are you hurt? Are you in trouble? Where are you, man?" he burst out, words tumbling out in a wave as he rested a hand against the bedside table.

"…I need to see you. I need…" Sam's voice exhaled shakily, and Dean's hand made a fist. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong.

"Where are you? I'll come get you."

As he listened to Sam's shaky voice, he found that his brother wasn't too far away at all, and even if he had been, he would've floored his car to get to him, no matter the distance.

"Just stay there, okay? It won't take me long to get there. I'm comin', Sammy."

"O-okay. Hurry, Dean…please?"

Dean felt something chill through his bones at how small and scared Sam's voice sounded. He hadn't heard him sound that way since Sam had been scared about him losing his soul to the hellhounds. It made him want to wrap Sam up in his arms like he'd done when he was a baby, and never let him go.

"Just hold on, I'll be right there." he assured him, hanging up, before he whirled around, vaguely surprised that Castiel was still there, given he had a tendency of vanishing when he needed to talk to him. "Uh…"

Castiel chuckled, just a little, when the other looked awkward, rubbing the back of his neck. "Go to him." he replied with a nod. "He needs you."

"Cas, I…"

"Hush." Two fingers landed lightly on Dean's mouth, and the angel's lips tilted, faintly, into a small, somber smile. "He will need you, more than I do. Go on, now."

He watched Dean frown at him, but knew he wouldn't argue. Samuel Winchester was Dean's whole life, and so he wasn't offended when Dean rushed out, leaving him behind. In fact, it was just what was needed.

How strange. He almost felt the urge to cry. Castiel frowned to himself. Angels could love, he knew, but being on the outside, looking in, to a relationship he couldn't have, was mildly…upsetting.

Still. What he said had been the truth. Sam needed him, more than anything else in the world, and if Sam was meant to be saved at all from the horror that was coming, it was only Dean that could do it.

After all…Sam was his soul mate. More than brothers, their souls were uniquely joined. They were the balance of dark and light, good and evil, yin and yang. He knew what the demons wanted of the younger Winchester, and if Sam and Dean were meant to be together, he would not stand in the way of it.

Castiel closed his eyes and let himself flash out of the hotel room. Dean would need him in order to be strong and to win, surely. But it would not be his love that he would need. Fate had laid that plan in motion a long, long time ago. If it wasn't for that particular destiny…perhaps. But there was no time for what ifs and might have beens, in these, the cusp of the End of Days.

----

Sam Winchester had always been particularly susceptible to that which was dark and evil, ever since he was small. Hell, ever since he'd been a baby, and the Yellow-Eyes and dripped blood into his mouth from his own skin. That which they'd hunted had always gone for him, and back then, he'd thought it was just because he was small and inexperienced. Hindsight was twenty-twenty. They were drawn to the darkness inside him, never letting him have a normal life because they wanted what he had, even if he didn't want it. He hadn't had a normal childhood, and they'd constantly moved from place to place, hunting things, which meant he hadn't had the chance to put down roots or make friends. Normalcy was not a thing he was familiar with, even when he broke away from Dean and his dad and went to Stanford. No, the evil had just chased him there, pinned his girlfriend to the ceiling and let her burn, just like his mother.

He'd been on the road with his brother, saving people, hunting things, finding their father, and ultimately, losing him again to the darkness that followed right after them. He'd died once, he'd watched his brother die, he'd hunted and dealt with powers that were beyond his comprehension. He'd drank demon blood and been able to exterminate demons, but not without a price. Not without opening the worst gate in creation and unleashing Lucifer. And then, he'd separated from Dean, hoping to protect him from that evil, from himself…and had been told…

Pulling up long legs on the bench he sat on at the bus stop, Sam buried his head against his knees, hands over his ears, as if to deafen himself from the calm conversation he'd had with Lucifer, not too long ago before he'd ran like the hounds of hell were chasing him.

Lucifer had been so sure…so certain, that he was the true vessel. That HE would be the container for him, to bring about the end of the world. He'd smiled, told him he would give in to him…and it terrified him, more than anything in the world.

He wanted to see Dean. Needed to see him. The urge to have demon blood was fairly nonexistent to the fact that he needed to see his brother before his brain broke into tiny little pieces. Panting faintly against the fabric of his faded jeans, he lifted his head when he heard the familiar rumble of the Impala coming up to the bus stop. Never had he thought it would be so good, such a relief to see that familiar, shiny black hood, and he tottered to his feet, already moving--half-running, even--to meet the car before it had even pulled to a stop.

Dean's short-cropped hair and furrowed brow brought a sting of tears behind his eyes, and he placed all risk of being called a girl on his shoulders as he flung his arms around Dean's body, his face against Dean's shoulder and breathed in the scent of familiar leather and cologne at the same time that his brother had stumbled out of the car.

"Whoa! Sammy! What the--" His sputtered protest dropped into concern, and Sam felt Dean's hand land on his shoulder. "You're shakin', man. What's wrong? What happened to you?"

"Dean…I'm scared. I mean…really scared." he mumbled against his shoulder, not even wanting to lift his head for fear that his brother would just push him away. He couldn't have that now. Not now, not when he was terrified.

"Sammy…" Dean's voice softened, and he rubbed awkwardly at Sam's back, which was hard to do when he was being sandwiched against his taller little brother and his big, huge hands that were making bones crack. "Hey…hey, we'll fix it, okay? You and me, like we always do. Nothin' we can't do when we work together, right?"

"I…I don't know if we can fix this one." Sam replied, though he relaxed, just a little, when Dean's warm hands rubbed circles into his spine. "I mean…this is bad."

"So? It was bad when you thought about using Dad's gun when you were twelve to hunt down that Black Dog in Nevada…you know, the gun that knocked you clean off your feet and into a tree? You remember Dad was pissed about that, right? Who had your back?"

Sam smiled a little at the memory. "You did, Dean."

"And you remember how bad it was when you were sixteen and kissed Becky Thorton, and found that not only did she have a big, protective older brother, but also a shotgun-toting grandfather? Who distracted the old man and clocked the brother so you could get away?"

"You did." Sam chuckled a little. "Though you got a black eye that Dad laughed about for days and days."

"Yeah well…" Dean grunted softly. "Just goes to show ya, Sammy. Ain't nothing we can't do together. Just trust me."

"I do. I just don't know if you trust me. After…everything."

Dean sighed and squirmed out of Sam's hold, reaching up to grab Sam's face in his hands and yanking him down to his level. He would've been amused at Sam's girly little squawk if he wasn't peering at him intently.

"Course I trust you, Sammy. So we got a little lost here, thanks to everything happening. But that doesn't mean that I don't trust you over everything and everyone else. We've known each other for too damn long to ever get split up permanently. We're in this together, right?"

"But Dean--"

"Right?" he repeated, watching Sam until his brother's shoulders sagged, and he nodded. "Alright, then. So there's nothing we won't be able to get through. We just gotta stay one step ahead of everyone else."

Sam bit his lip as Dean let him go, and straightened, looking down at his feet. "With what happened…it was something really bad, Dean."

"Then we'll get out of here and talk through it. Okay?" Dean stepped back to the still-open door of the Impala and tilted his head, waiting for Sam until the younger smiled a little and nodded, heading around to the passenger side.

"Hope you're right, Dean."

"I'm always right." Dean drawled, smirking when Sam let out a soft snort. At least he'd been able to pull a laugh out of his younger brother, that was saying something when it came to that haunted look in those dark, gentle eyes. Something big had happened, but he wasn't going to let it take Sam away from him. Not again. He climbed into the car and closed the door, glancing over at his brother before he started the car, and they headed back out. Cas would understand, he was sure. He'd known his brother forever…he couldn't ever turn his back on him, no matter what.

It was nice, though, to have that passenger seat filled up again…Cas had been a very interesting passenger, and he still could die laughing at his attempts to get the angel laid…but the seat belonged only to Sammy. Maybe he would be able to talk to Cas later about their emotions--how fun that would be, considering he was terrible at them, and he would be trying to talk to a freakin' angel--but Sam always had, and always would, take precedence. It was just a given.

"Hey…Dean…?" Sam replied quietly, twining his fingers around themselves as he glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"I bet it was kinda nice…at least a little…not having to worry about me, huh?"

Dean's fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he looked forward. It hadn't been the same. More than once he'd been about to look over to Sam, share a joke or a laugh or an experience with him, only to find he wasn't there. Even bathroom events, such as Sam bitching at him about leaving the toothpaste cap off, had been missed.

What to say, what to say…? He wasn't the touchy-feely type. He'd picked up too much of their father's mannerisms, really.

"Aw, Sammy. You know my day ain't complete without you complaining about the pound of grease I consume at the diners, or your whining about always bein' stuck shotgun." he drawled as Sam rolled his eyes.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

And Dean couldn't stop himself from grinning at the familiar traded insults, hearing Sam's soft laughter on the other side of the car. Okay, so the world was falling down around their heads…Sam was with him. In all consideration, all was right with the world for the time being as he headed back to the hotel.

----

"You gotta be shitting me."

Trust Dean with his mouth that would make a sailor blush…Sam wrinkled his nose to himself as he sighed, head bowed and fingers clasped between his knees as he sat on the bed in the hotel room Dean had gotten. It was one with double beds, and he vaguely wondered if Dean had just been waiting for him to return. Not that that was the first thing on his mind, listening to the shock and disbelief in his brother's voice.

"I wish I was. But he came to me, Dean. Plain as day. He pretended to be Jess. Probably to get on my good side…and he told me I was going to be his vessel, and that I would give in to him."

"NO." Dean burst out, slicing a hand through the air. "He's just playing with your mind, you're sure as hell not going to be a walking meat-sack for the big time Demon boss! He just wants to throw you off! He needs your permission, and I know you won't do something like that!"

"Of course not!" Sam replied as he lifted his head. "But…but you know what's happened before, Dean! You know how these demons and…things have twisted me around before. What's to say that Lucifer won't--"

"He won't." Dean growled as he came to kneel in front of him, hands on his shoulders as he gazed at him fiercely. "I won't let him, Sammy, you hear? We'll stop him before he even lays one finger on you. I won't let him take you."

"Dean…" Sam replied quietly, swallowing. "I'm scared. I don't want to be a vessel for him. It's like the Yellow Eyes all over again, him wanting me to be the head of his demon army, but…way worse. I'm afraid I'll give in."

Dean gazed at him, his brows forming a worried crease between his brows that never really went away, before he threw his masculine pride to the wind and hugged him close, cheek against Sam's shoulder as he wound his arms around his back. He heard him whisper his name, half in surprise, and cupped the back of his head protectively. "I'm right here, Sammy. I won't let anything happen to you, ever."

"You can't be here always, Dean. You can't protect me from every little thing."

"I can sure as hell try. Been doing it long enough to know the ropes."

Sam laughed a little, the sound moist as he ducked his head against Dean's neck. "Yeah…you have, haven't you?"

"Ever since you were a baby." Dean replied, absently stroking the thick dark hair as he held him. Crap, Sam sounded close to tears. If he ever saw Lucifer, he'd give him a few new holes for making his brother so upset. "I promised I'd take care of you. Nothing's changed, Sammy. I don't care if he is big bad Lucifer. I won't hand you over to him. He'll have a fight on his hands if he ever tries to take you away from me."

Sam blushed, thankful that the way they were situated, with his face buried against Dean's skin as the other hugged him, that it couldn't be seen. Dean was being so nice and protective…the latter he was used to, but the previous had his cheeks on fire. Dean, cranky, wiseass, didn't know how to say 'I love you' if his life depended upon it, being so nice…so warm? It was flattering, in a way that he hadn't felt since he was little, and he'd surrendered the last of the cereal so Sam could have something to eat. He missed that Dean sometimes, especially with the way they'd been arguing.

He sighed against his neck and nudged at him. "Don't you dare call me a chick, okay?" he muttered, unable to help himself when a few tears dripped.

"I'll be good this time. Just don't make a habit of it." Dean replied, frowning when he felt the wet moisture against his neck. He leaned back, his expression looking as if it could be carved of stone as he reached out to thumb away Sam's tears. "It'll be okay, Sam. Don't let that bastard get you all stirred up."

"You look like you could rip his head off." Sam mused, chuckling faintly when Dean smirked wickedly.

"I could, actually. He's trying to lay claim on MY little brother. Not happening."

"I'm not a damsel in distress, thanks, Dean."

"Nah…your hands and shoulders are too big to be a damsel."

"Jerk…!" Sam snorted softly, pushing at him with a blush, before he blinked when he was pulled into another tight, possessive hug. "Dean…"

"Don't go away again, Sam. Never again. The demons are having a freakin' field day about it, and you're in danger, and I'm gonna be gray before my time. Don't you leave me."

He sounded so desperate…so afraid. Sam swallowed and shifted so he could stroke his fingers through Dean's hair, riffling the already spiky strands even further. He sounded just as scared as he was. His big brother…scared of losing him.

"I won't leave you, Dean." he promised as he leaned to kiss the top of his head. "We'll fight this together, like always."

He had expected Dean to protest his being affectionate--it was just a quirk that Dean had--but there was no sort of protest at all, just Dean hugging him tightly, hands resting at the middle of his back. Gazing down at the top of Dean's head, Sam slid his fingers along the nape of Dean's neck. "Thanks." he murmured softly.

"Mmh? For what?" Dean grunted quietly.

"For not giving up on me. For always being there for me, even if we fight. I…really don't know what I'd do without you."

Dean chuckled a little, and nudged at him. "No chick flick moments." He gazed at him, tilting his head upwards. "I'm always gonna be there for you, that's one thing you never have to worry about."

"Promise?"

"I swear, Sammy. Cross my heart."

Sam had to smile when they both simultaneously crossed their hearts, and bumped their fists together, something routine and left over from childhood between them.

What wasn't routine, though, was their fingers getting tangled together, that their friendly fist bumping turned into clasped hands.

Sam would've expected Dean to pull away and say something jock and stupid.

He was thrown, then, when Dean glanced at their hands silently, seeming to mull something over.

"Dean…?" he questioned.

"He can't be serious. Was that what he meant…?" Dean muttered softly, furrowing his brow.

"Dean?" Sam tried again, before he was caught, trapped like a gangly dragonfly in a beautiful spider's web, when Dean's eyes met his. It had happened millions of times before, ever since they were kids, but something seemed to be so different. So desperate and fierce and almost burning as he caught his breath, his fingers tightening on Dean's.

The elder was silent for a few moments, green eyes fixed on him. He didn't look particularly scared or worried, merely thoughtful. It made Sam a little nervous, but he was breathless at the same time, waiting for something to happen.

That something was Dean's warm, firm lips against his own as Sam gasped against his mouth, feeling his cheeks flush--along with the rest of his body--as he registered what Dean was doing. He was kissing him. His own brother. And it wasn't a friendly little peck on the cheek, either. (He didn't think Dean was capable of them anyways)

He ought to be stunned. Disgusted, maybe? He ought to push him away and demand what in the hell he thought he was doing. But he didn't do it. Sam didn't know what to do. The kiss wasn't disgusting, but maybe that was because he and Dean's relationship, like everything else in their life, had never been "normal". He shouldn't like the warmth of Dean's body, the calloused hand holding his own. He shouldn't like the firm, full lips against his. But he did. Then again, when had he ever been normal?

He let go of Dean's hand and slid both hands into Dean's hair, cupping his head in his hands as he tilted his head, kissed him back--

And stumbled back a few spaces, surprised when Dean pushed him back, blinking and looking as stunned as he'd felt. "Dean…?!"

Fascinated, he watched the elder flush, bringing out in stark relief the freckles that had faded over the years, rubbing the back of his neck.

"…Seems like we've got a lot more talkin' to do, Sammy."

---

To be continued…

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End file.
